


His Biggest Fan

by witch_brew



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Amputation, Choking, Depressing Themes, Gore, Graphic Violence, Kidnapping, Mentally Ill Character, Other, Voyeurism, ask to tag, dubcon, gender neutral reader, reader is a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_brew/pseuds/witch_brew
Summary: You're his biggest fan. You'd give anything to be his. Right?





	His Biggest Fan

**Author's Note:**

> LMAO IM GROSS HI

You are his biggest fan. 

You've been watching his streams for months now, as you backpacked across the country. The money your parents gave you, money meant for your education, is frequently thrown his way. They will send more, they always do. When you finally contact them they're so relieved that they don't even bother to be angry at you, they just give you whatever you need.

You don't hate them for spoiling you, but it's not something you want either. 

No, what you want is him. 

You lean back in your hotel bed, setting things up so no one could track what you were doing, what websites you were on. It wouldn't be good if someone found this website when they weren't meant to. 

You rarely commented, preferring to just watch and send him your favor in cash, but tonight is different. 

The poor little creature he holds in his arms, they look... kind of like you. 

You can tell they're slightly taller, maybe a little thinner, but they look so similar. The biggest difference is in eye color, but when their hair falls across their face... you can easily pretend. 

You want, so bad, to be his victim. It would be the best way to die. 

Your fingers are tracing the keys before you know what you're going to say.

Burntpetals52: That one looks kind of like me.

Your killer laughs, tilting his head and squeezing his victim. His golden eyes are glinting with malice.

“Do you have an issue with this one,” he says, squinting to read your name, “Oh! Burntpetals52? You're a big contributor.”

You grin widely, feeling your cheeks heat. He noticed you? Before the shy thoughts can creep in, you type again. 

Burntpetals52: I don't have an issue, this makes it more fun. Can I make a request?

You send him a hefty payment, watching his eyes. He has such lovely eyes. They light up when notification of your donation comes through, and you can tell without him taking off his mask, he's smiling.

“Request away, leibling.”

You do. You have him cut them slowly, carving 'mine' into their back while they scream and cry. You watch as his breathing becomes labored, their blood pooling under him as he carves up their thighs. You imagine his knife sinking into you.

When he begins undoing his pants, you shove a hand between your legs. You get off together, and once you've wiped your hand clean on the hotel sheets, you type one last request.

Burntpetals52: Can I see their spine, please?

As he picks up the knife, you know he's smiling.

-

It's over a month before you receive a notification of an upcoming stream. There are usually less during the summer, most likely due to him working outside the house. He's well built, only a bit of chubbiness to him, so you imagine he spends plenty of time outdoors when it's nice out. He probably lives far away from people, though, so you do wonder if he gets lonely.

You decide to stop at a bar in whatever town you're in, down a few shitty beers before renting a hotel room for the night. 

You hope this stream is as good as the last. 

You enter the bar and relax when no one tries to speak to you. You're bad with people. There's an empty booth in the back, and you quickly make your way to it, sliding into the corner and waiting for a server to pass so you can request a drink.

Instead of a server, you look up to a man sliding into the seat across from you. He looks familiar. He's not looking at you, but you feel the urge to meet his eyes.

“So, liebling, you're not from here, eh? I'm Strade.”

Oh. Oh no. That voice. Oh... yes.

“Oh my God.” You whimper, and he finally looks at you.

His eyes are golden, and his brows are furrowed in confusion.

“We-” you cover your mouth, glancing around. No one is looking at you. “We should go somewhere else. Its- I... You know me. I know you. We should go.”

His confusion fades, but only slightly. 

“Okay? My car's right outside, if you like?”

You nod, and follow him from the bar. He holds the door to his car open, and you notice no handle on the inside. His face becomes much more predatory as you hesitate.

“Are you going to get in?” He asks, and you can hear the underlying threat. He wants you to fight.

You smile at him.

“Sure, Strade.” 

You get in, and he shuts the door. As he walks around to his side, you buckle yourself in. You bite your lip as he starts the car.

“I'm Burntpetals52.” You say, once he's pulled away from the bar. “I know where we're going.”

He looks over at you for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he thinks back before throwing his head back and laughing. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, massaging it gently. You feel yourself becoming aroused already. 

“I've wanted you to hurt me for a long time.” You whisper, and his grin grows. 

“Well then, you're in for a treat, liebling. I'm going to hurt you a lot.”

Before you can say anything else, he grips the base of your neck and slams your head against the dash twice in quick succession, and you lose your grip on consciousness. 

When you come to, it doesn't take long for you to recognize where you are. The angle is different, of course, but you know this room.

It's his basement.

He's there, hunched over a desk, typing away at a keyboard. You watch him silently, ignoring the swell of fear growing inside you. This is what you've wanted, forever really. Why are you afraid?

He turns, startling slightly when he sees you're awake. He has the bandanna on already, and you notice the light on his webcam is already lit up. You're live. 

“Hello there, liebling. While you were sleeping I got a few things ready and let our friends know who you are. They're excited, this is special. You're special.”

He walks closer, and you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle that he's smiling at you. You return his smile, but your own feels shaky. The fear is thrilling, sending adrenaline coursing through your veins. You wonder how hard you'll struggle, once he starts.

You've hurt yourself before, while watching him, but this is different. This is him. 

“Are you ready, liebling? What's your fantasy?”

“I...” You falter. What do you want? 

“Anything. Do anything to me.”

His eyes crinkle again. He liked that.

He walks over to an area that reminds you of your dad's tool shop. You wonder how hard your dad will look for you, and when he'll start. You've vanished for months before, it'll probably take a year before they get worried. Before they think something's wrong. 

Strade turns back to you, holding up something that makes your breathing hitch.

A saw. 

“You look like you uncomfortable, tied to that post. I think we'll untie you, but first I need to make sure you can't change your mind, liebling. So, try to hold still.”

He crouches in front of you and jerks one of your legs straight, positioning the saw at your ankle.

Right as it clicks in your brain what he's about to do, he presses down hard and drags the blade through the meat of your ankle, and you let out the loudest scream you've ever released. 

Your legs jerk, but his grip is like iron and he keeps sawing through flesh and meat. You feel the wet warmth of your own blood covering your ankle, but you can't focus through the pain. You just keep screaming. 

When he finally meets bone you sob with relief, thinking maybe it's over. You're stupid like that.

“Aw, liebling, I don't think this saw will cut through the bone fast enough. Don't worry, I can fix that.”

He stands briefly, just so he can stomp down harshly on your ankle until it snaps. You scream again, and then again when he grabs up the saw and cuts through the remaining skin and tendons. The feeling of your Achilles tendon rolling up into your leg is enough to make you gag. 

You black out after that, but he keeps going. When he slaps you awake both your ankles are in agony, and when you look down you realize your feet are gone, jagged bits of bone sticking out of the bloodied ends of your legs. 

You reach towards your ankles, barely processing the fact that you can. He untied you. He watches, eyes crinkled in a smile, as you touch the wound and recoil from the pain.

“Oh my God.” You mumble, voice trembling.

“You've gotten me excited, liebling. Isn't that nice? You get everything you want tonight.”

You look up at him, confused, and then he's pushing you down in your own blood, pulling your underwear down. Oh. 

You've always wanted to feel him inside you, but you're not sure if you can focus through the pain. 

He touches you briefly and laughs. 

“You're already nice and ready for me, liebling.” He whispers into your ear.

You feel his cock pressing against your entrance and try to relax as he pushes in. The stretch burns, but it's nothing compared to the pain in your ankles. 

You can't quite feel good, but your body is responding without your mind, relaxing around him. He fucks you hard and without a rhythm, one hand on your hip, the other coming up to wrap around your throat. His grip is tight, and your visions starts to blur as he goes harder, hand tightening.

You can't breath. Everything is overwhelming. You're in so much pain.

You don't realize you're cumming until he laughs. 

“You really are a freak, aren't you?” 

But apparently he likes that, his hips rolling faster and harder into yours. A few seconds later he stills, hilted inside you, and you feel the warmth of his own release filling you. 

It's nothing like you imagined, but your unfocused, pain fogged brain tells you it's perfect all the same.

He pulls out of you and does up his pants, panting slightly. 

“Alright, liebling, let's show the stream how pretty you are before we continue.”

He walks over to the camera and removes it from the tripod. He's done that before, when he's really proud of his work. 

He starts at your ankles, then he shows them your used hole. You watch the computer screen light up with comments. You can't read them from here, but you're sure they're disgusting. 

“Tilt your head up, I want to show them your throat.”

You obey, and he films the hand shaped bruises for a moment. You close your eyes, focusing on the pain. Your entire body aches with it, and he's barely even done anything. 

Your eyes open when you feel his hand on your jaw, tilting your head so that your face was pointed at the camera. 

“Aren't they pretty when they cry?” He coos.

You hadn't even realized you were crying, but it's true. Little sobs are working their way free from your throat, and your cheeks are damp with tears. 

He doesn't return the camera. 

“Hey, liebling, remember the one that looked like you? Remember what you asked?”

You blink at him, brow furrowing. You can't remember. You can't think of anything other than this. 

“You asked to see their spine.”

There's a struggle then, your instinctual urge to survive taking over as he grabs you by the hair. You're weak from blood loss, easily overpowered, and he's quickly got you on your belly. 

He sits down on top of you, and you hear the soft swish of his knife being drawn. 

“Beg, if you want.” He says, voice low and mean.

So you do. You beg. 

“Please! Please, oh my God!”

“Please what, liebling?”

You choke on a sob as he pushes your head into the concrete floor, you cheek scraping against it. 

What was it you wanted again?

What was it you've wanted all along?

What would you even do, if you left here? What meaning does life have for you?

You know the answer. To every question. 

“Please hurt me.” You beg. 

And he obliges, cutting into your back eagerly. Between the screaming and the crying you wonder. 

Will you get to see your spine before you die?


End file.
